


Losing the Battle

by orphan_account



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Winn, Caring Mon-El, Clothed BlowJob, Clothed Sex, Comfort/Angst, Cover Art, Depression, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mental Anguish, Mon-El needs a Hug, Not Canon Compliant, POV Winn Schott Jr., Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Some Humor, Suicidal Thoughts, Understanding Mon-El, Unreliable Narrator, Winn Needs a Hug, almost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8490931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Winn was fading away, ceasing to exist, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. Everything he had -- his friends, his job, his relationship with Mon-El -- they meant nothing. They weren't, hadn't ever been real -- he didn't know what to believe anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Winn’s senses shook with the illusion of secludedness. 

His stomach plummeted to the ground at this sense of _secludedness, disconnection._ Something was very wrong … _missing_. But what? He scanned the entire base of the DEO and found nothing amiss — _everything was in place —_ so why did he feel so shitty, so lost? Where did this feeling emerge from?

He wished he could laugh it off, say it was just his imagination, but it didn't feel right to do so. It just didn’t. He can’t explain why but this didn’t seem like one of this _off day_ s he sometimes had; it felt like something bigger, stronger, and not in his control.

_But what?_

He brushed off the thought for now. He will look into it for later, but now he had to go find Mon-El and give the man with the undeniable strongest libido (really!) his suit. He had worked all night on it, even blowing off sex with said man to create something brilliant, out-of-this-world for a man out-of-this-world. He almost patted himself at the back for that, not his best pun, but it made him smile, so it wasn't half-bad.

He swept his eyes across the room and saw Mon-El sipping a pipping hot cup of coffee considering how hard he crushed the cup in his hand. Oh, Winn was so going to scold him later for drinking something that fast without at least checking the temperature of the cup first. Well, something along that line.

He laughed quietly to himself, but that feeling of belonging was soon taken away from him, replaced by this gnawing feeling of despair.

No, no, no, he didn't want to deal with this again. Why can’t he just laugh at his hot boyfriend’s lack of common sense?

Yeah, he was going to do just that, so he pushed that feeling farther down until he felt it was buried deep enough.

It didn't make feel better, but, oh well, he will deal with it later. 

He walked up to Mon-El and stared right at him. “Hi,” he said cheerfully, ignoring this rip, this tear, this growing emptiness in him. “Man, you gotta see what I made? It’s going to blow the roof. Better than Clark’s suit, I can tell ya that.”

Mon-El didn’t reply to him, nor did he show any signs of actually noticing him. Huh, that was weird. Maybe it was a Daxomite thing, or the withdrawal from sex. Still, it seemed shallow and out of character for Mon-El to ignore him completely. Whatever, maybe he was so focused on his pain from the spill that he didn't notice Winn. 

“So, the suit,” he tried again, trying to keep the hurt from creeping into his voice, “comes up with a high probability for no hurt from any weapons of kind; weather’s resistance; and of course, comms is in the suit. There’s also —” He looked at Mon-El again, but it was like he wasn't even there. “Mon-El, are you even listening to me? C’mon, dude, I’ve done amazing things to your suit. You should want to hear me talk ‘bout how amazing it is.”

Still, Mon-El didn't look at him. This was starting to get on his nerves. Maybe he had a problem with Winn, as unlikely as that seemed. Oh, well, his loss! 

Winn walked over to J’onn who had just arrived. Where had he been? Where J’onn went was J’onn’s business. Winn had no intention of finding out what his boss did in his free time which was weird to think about; J’onn having a life. 

“Hi, boss,” he began, not receiving an acknowledgment from J’onn which left him feeling lost and confused on the inside. But he had to try again. J’onn probably had a rough night which he was so not going to think about. No, thank you, he was good. “So, I was just—”

He couldn't even finish his sentence, because J’onn had interrupted him. Finally, someone rather than one hot Daxomite was going to pay attention to him.

“What are you saying, Kara?”

What? Did J’onn not hear anything he just said? Winn’s stomach sunk and a blackness started to take over his heart. He felt so isolated.

“Cadmus almost _kidnapped_ Mon-El.” Kara sighed when she saw the indifference on J’onn’s face. “And me _again_. I just think we should try to take them down now.” 

“Kara, I admire your determination,” J’onn said, looking straight through Winn, “but we can’t just take down Cadmus when we know nothing about them. We don’t know where Cadmus does their dealings, who they work for, or how many of them they are.”

“You’re right, but I think we should do something ‘bout them.”

“So, Cadmus? What’s their deal?” Mon-El asked. “Why do they want to get rid of the world of aliens? I thought humans were okay with us. They cheered for Supergirl.”

Winn couldn't hear anything more. Who cared about Cadmus when they were all ignoring him? He felt his heart splitting in two huge splinters digging deep into him. They were his friends, so why weren't they acknowledging him? For god’s sake, he was dating Mon-El, and had been Kara’s friend, if not best (awkward attempting of romancing her forgotten) friend. 

Did he do something wrong? He wanted to slap some sense into them. Maybe he should. Would it even matter? Nothing seemed to matter anymore. 

He let himself be dragged further down into this black hole when Mon-El walked right past him, almost as if he wasn't there.

A sigh escaped from his lips, and he said, “Guess I wasn’t that important, huh?”

Mon-El swiftly turned around and looked in his direction; confusion marring his face. “Did you hear that? I think someone was there.”

“Hear what?” Kara asked, shooting him a look, as if he were crazy.

“Huh? Must be the coffee.”

“That’s not how coffee works.”

“Whatever.”

Winn felt his legs go weak, so when they gave up on him, he just let himself fall to the ground. So, he wasn't there? Huh, wasn’t that something. He was invisible and no one seemed to notice, or care that he was gone. How was this his life? He laughed; a broken, quiet sound.


	2. Chapter 2

_And it got better_ … no, it didn’t, not in these long, dreadful months ( _or had it only been just days, weeks?)_ he had been stuck in this _cruel_ loop the universe threw at him.

Winn wanted to laugh so badly, but he couldn’t — he had forgotten how to actually laugh, or even to _talk_ for that matter. He had been alone, unable to communicate with anyone for so long that he forgot what it meant to exist.

_Was he even alive anymore?_ He wasn't sure. Maybe he wasn’t; it didn't matter anymore. He was disconnected from living, trapped in his perfect little corner, with no way of ever returning back to the life he once had. _Or had it all been a dream?_ Something his tortured mind created _just_ to make the loneliness _bearable_? 

Hah, as if anything can help him feel less alone than he was _right now_. This _wasn’t_ something he can ever really change; he had no one else than himself to turn to. He didn't exist, _not for anyone, especially not for Mon-El_ , and that hurt like a bitch, but it was the only thing he was certain of.

So, he sat in his corner, constantly surveilling everyone at the DEO, because what else could he do? Considering he was _trapped_ and _locked_ in the aloofness of the DEO — _absolutely fucking nothing that gave him a tiny bit of pleasure._

Watched, learned, and hurt. That was all he was allowed to do now. 

At least, he didn’t hang around Mon-El anymore. Never felt his heart cracking when he saw Mon-El _flirting, kissing, or fucking_ some random chick or guy. Never tried to clutch onto Mon-El, like he was the last straw, the last hope to his existence … _not anymore_. 

How long can he go on holding onto that weak thread _threatening_ to break apart? He just can’t go through that. Seeing the man he gave his heart to completely flirting, kissing, or fucking some random stranger was already breaking him apart both internally and externally, even if he wished it were different, so it didn't have this effect on him. 

He can feel himself slipping away, changing and becoming a dry, rotten leaf, easy to step on, easy to crush. Yet, no one or nothing dared to crush him, like if he wasn’t even worth it. Maybe he wasn’t. Not now, not anymore. So, why not end this endless cycle of suffering himself?

Mon-El already walked over him — _they all did_ — so why not let himself fail to exist completely?

This was a battle he was going to lose before he ever really had the chance to step on the battlefield. 

Hah, it was a coward thing to do, to accept defeat, but what else could he do when he had lost all of the fights he fought? It wasn't as if _his interactions_ with Mon-El, Kara, Alex, J’onn, or anyone in the DEO, aliens and humans, suddenly caused the bright yellow bulb to go off? 

Nothing happened. 

Nothing changed.

Nothing magically appeared out of the ordinary.

_So, why should he bother anymore?_ This wasn't some nightmare he could wake up from, because he would have woken up _already_ if that was the case. But he didn’t. This was his life now, some sick, twisted joke of a life, but his life nonetheless. A life that hadn't changed during the course of this loop of sorts. The only thing he can really hold on to, but that was slowly fading. It was only a matter of time when he chose to end it. _Was he even allowed to do that?_ God, he wasn't sure of anything anymore.

How ironic was it that the only thing he was given possession of was the only thing that can’t be changed?

_Smile, man, smile, Winn_ , he reminded himself, _don’t ever give hope._ _Don’t ever be such a pessimistic; things will get better.Someone’s gonna notice you are not there … remember who you are, what you did ... someone has to … you will see._

Only if he can believe himself, like he wanted to, but he cannot. He can pretend to accept blind optimism just to give himself reasons to keep on existing for now, but in his heart, he will never _truly_ accept it. There was only so long that he can keep this act going, and he feared when it was all going to unravel.


	3. Chapter 3

He shouldn't be doing this; following Mon-El around like everything was just a big ole’ sack of good fun and joy. _Not again_. Hadn’t he already lost that battle? He decided that after all those times where throwing himself at Mon-El or his friends resulted into nothing than pure frustration and pain. _Why did he love doing this to himself?_ Man, he must _really_ love the hurt and pain it brought. He must to be more than willing to throw himself in this dark pit filled with pain and more pain. 

_But … but_ he couldn't stand being cooped up in his little corner anymore. It was killing him _just_ to remain this outsider, with one job, to _watch_ and _only_ be _hurt_ in return.

God, he knew that no one was ever going to notice him — he had enough time to process that cruel thought. Yet, a small part of him actually wanted to be noticed, to finally be seen, to be acknowledged. _Why?_ Maybe because he was a sucker for pain now. After everything he went through with his dad, the one thing he never wanted to experience anymore was the only thing he was allowed to experience.How ironic!

He desperately wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. Not because it wasn't the right time, or some crazy excuse like that. For god’s sake, he had no one else but himself to hang with. Some kind of ‘hanging out!’ Oh, and his thoughts, and that was even more frickin’ dangerous. What joy! 

He couldn't laugh because he forgotten how to laugh. But what else was new?

………………..

 

Maybe it was time for him to wake up. Winn didn't want to, however, because every time he did, it only hurt, and he just wanted the pain to stop. And he was willing to do whatever it took to end it all. His whatever-you-called-it-now fucked up existence.

_No, no, no!_ He did not want to think about ‘that’ anymore. Yes, maybe it was the best choice to put himself out of his misery, but how could _possibly_ end himself if he didn't exist anymore? If he always phased through everything? The answer was simple: he couldn’t.

Winn sighed and buried his face deep into the nape of Mon-El’s neck. His action caused Mon-El to turn his head around in an odd position, to check on himself. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but it felt good. Warm. Nice. What he needed at the moment. Needed more than anything now. Something he didn't realize he missed as much as he did. 

It was wrong to put himself through this. He wasn't going to get Mon-El back, or even his old life. But sometimes, he didn't want to let go. It was easier to do when he was just thinking about it, but doing it, that was harder than anything he was feeling right now.

He sighed heavily into the nape of Mon-El’s neck which caused Mon-El to look around again. _Did he notice me?_ Winn mentally slapped himself on the head, course he didn’t. He never did in all those long months, so why should he now? The thought was nice, an actual fresh batch of sweet smelling air compared to this crappy sink of a mood he was always in which was anything but nice.

The little comfort he was given was soon taken away when Kara walked in the room, looking as un-terrifying as she did when she was trying to be strict and stern. He felt the tension building up in him, because she was his friend before she was Mon-El, and to know she didn't notice him hurt. Not even snuggling up next to Mon-El could take that away.

Well, he was the outsider, so he had to expect that. That didn't mean it didn't hurt twice as much. 

Because it hurt like a bitch.

So, he played the ‘outsider,’ and watched Kara and Mon-El interact with each other. He knew enough that they were just friends, but still, he felt this sexual tension from Mon-El that might suggest otherwise. That fucking hurt to know. 

He still kept his face pressed into the nape of Mon-El’s neck.

………………..

“Hi, Mon-El,” Kara asked, raising an eyebrow in question, “I don’t want to ask, but why are you staring at yourself like that? Is there something there? Because there is _absolutely nothing_ on you.” She lifted a finger in the air, pointing to the wall after scanning it. “Really, there’s nothing there.”

Winn shook his head. It wasn’t possible that Mon-El actually noticed his presence. No, it couldn't be. It was just his wishful thinking.

He returned his attention back to Mon-El and Kara.

Mon-El turned around and flashed her a quick, dazzling smile, then groaned and rubbed his neck to offer himself some sort of comfort, small as it was. “Oh, hey, is it time to go save the world?” he asked in a playful voice, placing a hand over his chest. “I’m doing that right? You know, that—”

Did that mean that Mon-El had a suit already? One that he didn't create? That realization caused his heart to almost close in on itself. That tight, constricted feeling was nothing new to him, but it still hurt like hell.

_Kara and Mon-El, just focus on them_ , he reminded himself, trying to distract himself with the two insanely hot aliens in the room. Well, one happened to be his boyfriend in another … no, he wasn't thinking about that.

_Just focus on them._ And he did.

“Yes, you are — can you not say you’re … we’re going to save the world.” Kara sighed. “We’ve to keep our identities under the ‘wrap.’ We just can’t avoid getting caught. Understood?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t?” He smirked. “But you could?”

“What are you …. I don't do that?”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes. “Talking about Supergirl when you’re at CatCo is totally not doing that. Right. Gotcha.”

She huffed and folded her arms across her chest. “No, that … I don’t do that.”

“‘Course, you don’t.”

“Just, let’s go.”

Mon-El laughed and followed her out of the door, not before stopping. 

Winn wanted to follow them out, too, but he remembered he was trapped in the DEO. How mighty lucky for him! He released himself from Mon-El and just watched, never taking his eyes off the two of them, listening to their conversation like a creepy stalker which he probably was. Was, he though, considering he didn't exist?

He wasn't going to think about that anymore. 

Kara spun around. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“That there’s something, someone there.” Mon-El looked around multiple times before he faced Kara again. He sighed. “Forget about it. I’ve been drinking too much coffee.”

“Kara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Coffee doesn't really … never mind. Can we just go?”

“Right, lead the way.”

Kara just shook her head. “Why did I think training you to be a superhero was a fantastic idea?”

“‘Cause I’m smokin’ hot.”

Kara glared at him.

_Mon-El still got it_ , Winn decided, and that hurt more than anything. Everything about Mon-El hurt. His friendly filtration with Kara was anything but friendly, and that only _widened_ the hole in his heart.

He slumped down on the floor and allowed himself to break down for the first time since he was thrown in this cluster fuck of a mess. 


	4. Chapter 4

The days that followed _did not_ get better.

Winn didn’t wake up from this hellish nightmare, nor did he _magically_ gain his old life back, or at least any form of recognition from _anyone._ He still was _invisible,_ no, no, no, he didn't exist anymore.

That should hurt, rip his heart wide open, get some sort of feeling out of him, but it didn’t. He felt absolutely nothing. And that should scare him that he was losing his humanity. But he didn't care anymore. What was the point of worrying over something that he can never fix?

He was so tired, oh, so _tired_ of being walked over every second of every day for the last — he didn't know how long it had been, but it had been fucking too long.

So, he closed his eyes, in an attempt to catch some much needed sleep. He hadn't slept in god knows how long — _it had been too long_ — and it was taking its toll on him. He hadn't even eaten anything — it was not as if he could actually eat anything, not when he phased through everything. Heck, he hadn't even had a shower; he tried but like everything else in his now, oh, so ‘fantastic’ life, he couldn’t soak in his bathtub until he felt right again.

Oh, but that would never happen, now, would it?

His ‘fantastic’ would never let him have anything fantastic in it. So, he accepted it, but he just wished he didn't had to be stuck in the DEO. Being around people was becoming too much for him; it took everything in him not to do something absolutely reckless. Not that it would matter anyway.

Once when some stupid alien managed to escape from his cell and was wrecking havoc on the DEO, Winn placed himself in front of the blast, hoping it would take him away from his messed up life. It didn’t. It flew right past him. 

But that wasn’t his last attempt of trying to escape. He tried to slit his wrists, but how could he when he can’t even fucking pick a knife or any sharp objects? That didn't work. 

One time, when he caught Mon-El fucking this woman, he lost it, and tried to bang his head in. That, too, was a failure.

Nothing he tried worked — jumping out of the windows, slamming his body into the hard, stone-cold wall, locking himself in a cell, biting himself until he bled — and he was so fucking fed up of it.

Maybe he should try to find a way out of this, but that hadn’t worked for so long, so why would it start working now? 

It won’t.

But, god, he can’t live like this anymore. He cannot keep doing this to himself. He needed to exist to anyone — he didn't care anymore if he can get his old life back, or have to create a new one. It will be hard, that was for sure, to live among people who he knew but who didn’t know him. 

Anything would be better than this. 

He would gladly take anything that was offered to him; an alternative universe, another Earth, another planet … he didn't care; he just wanted to exist again. To be real. To not be ignored. Because being invisible was not as cool as it was shown in the movies.

_Why are you doing this_? a voice nudged at him. _You know you cannot escape from this? This is your life now. You have to accept it._

No, he didn't want this life. 

He hadn't asked for it.

So, why did he had to live through it?

Because the universe thought it was such a royalidea to fuck him over. Like he was the best guinea pig it could find? Him? The nerdy guy who could never gain his crush’s attention until Mon-El walked into his life. Yeah, he was some kind of ‘price,' alright, a fantabulous one wrapped in big red bows.

What a great life he led?

His thoughts were drowning him and he didn't want that. He was so tired of sulking and hurting and being dragged through the mud. He just wanted someone to tell him that he was real. And if that meant thinking about all of those times when he never got what he wanted, then it wasn't worth it. If he were to be _exist_ again, he had to think with a clear mind, and he wished that could be something he can wish up. But how can he possibly forget anything he underwent these long, painful months? The truth was he couldn’t.

And if he were to _exist_ again, the road to recovery wasn't going to be an easy one. He would have to learn everything back to scratch. How to live, how to eat, how to laugh … how to be Winn if he can gain his old life back. And he wasn't sure he can be the cheerful, hyperactive, smart, quippy guy he was, not for a long time. He might never be that _Winn_  again.

But how the hell can he even mange to make himself be real to everyone? It wasn’t as if he could build anything —

“It _is_ you! It really is you.” 

Winn was snapped out of his thought from the light, soft chuckle that followed after whatever words were just spoken. He opened his eyes and turned around, not even bothering to get up from his perfect little spot. It wasn't as if anyone was actually talking to him, but he wanted to believe he was the one being addressed. And maybe, he would be when and _if_ and that was a big _if_ if he could actuallydo anything to change his current predicament.

But believing Mon-El was talking to him almost warmed his heart until he realized he didn't exist anymore.

“I was really worried,” Mon-El continued, almost as if he were relieved. _For what_ , Winn wondered, _because talking to yourself wasn't something to be relieved about_. “Kara didn't believe me when I told her I saw you. She thought that I was, uh, losing my mind, is that it?”

Winn stared at Mon-El and then turned to the other side. Maybe Mon-El thought doing whatever he was doing was fun, but it wasn't for Winn. He can’t blame him, though, he didn't know that Winn was there. 

“Hey, is something wrong?” He sounded so concerned, so friendly, that Winn wanted to bask in it. But, no, this wasn’t real — Mon-El wasn't seeing him. “Look, I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Winn still didn't turn around.

“You can’t tell me I’m _that_ bad to be around. I’m known to please humans very greatly.”

“Mon-El?” Winn heard Kara’s voice. “Who are you talking to?”

“Him.” He pointed to Winn’s perfect little spot. “Can’t you see him? He’s cute, isn't he? I feel like I know him?”

Winn turned around and was greeted with a smirk from Mon-El and a confused glance from Kara.

“There’s no one there.” She sighed. “Please tell me this isn't your ‘friend’ that you’ve been seeing?”

“Kara, how can you not see him? He’s right there. And he looks absolutely wrecked and … hey, you can see me right? You don’t have to talk, but just show me that you can see me.”

Winn looked at Mon-El and after a long time of thinking this over, he finally managed to say something.“Y … Y …. Y …. Ye ….. Ye …. Yes,” he said finding his voice after not speaking for such a long time. His voice was rusty and harsh from being unused. 

“He spoke to me. He _is_ real, Kara.”

Kara sighed. “There is no one there, Mon-El.”

“But he is there, Kara! I can see him!I’ve been seeing him for _weeks_ now. Weeks, Kara!” Mon-El sounded so frustrated. “He is there. He spoke to me, Kara! I’m not making him up to get a good laugh. _I would never do that._ He’s a real guy and if you can’t see him, then, oh, he has been here for weeks and no one has seen him. _Except for me._ ”

“I don’t know if your friend is actually there or not, Mon. I don’t see him.” Kara looked conflicted. “If he’s real, then god, I can’t imagine what he must have been going through. But if this is some alien sick joke of playing with us, then—”

“He _is_ real, Kara. That wretched look is real. Maybe you can’t see him, but I can, and I’m not going to let him go unnoticed anymore,” he added, sighing, “I feel like I’ve some sort of connection with him and I _just_ can’t that go. There has to be some reason why he appears before me and not you, Kara.”

Was he finally being noticed?By Mon-El, at the very least, if not Kara or anyone else for that mater. If not, this was a sick, the sickest joke that had been played on him yet.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Winn’s world crumbled beneath him.

Again.

Mon-El noticed him. He should be happy — he existed again, maybe not to everyone, but he did to Mon-El. So, why didn't he feel happy? Why didn't this gap in his heart get magically stitched back together? If anything, this tear, this raw gaping hole, in him got wider and bigger. This was not how he was supposed to be feeling.

But he should had known better; of course, he wasn't going to wake up, and feel better about his life. He had spent months being ignored and walked all over. That was a part of his life he was never going to get back. And he can’t pretend it wasn’t there, that he didn't went through all those _long_ , agonizing without destroying his spirit in the process.

Yes, he was damaged, and he was fucking terrified of what that meant. What if he could never function again, not even when it was pretend? 

Sure, Mon-El was the only one who noticed him now, but what if Kara did next, or Alex, or Jimmy, or J’onn? How was he going fool them that he was fine? Heck, he wasn't sure he can fool Mon-El — the Daxomite might not know him yet but he will soon and Winn could never lie to him.

“Hey, you okay?” Mon-El asked him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and jumped when his hand went through him. “Oh, does that happen often?”

He sounded so damn caring that it made Winn want to crawl into a hole and stay there until he rotted. 

He cannot deal with this. Why did he believe he could? _Because it was insufferable to go unnoticed_ , he tells him, _and it makes you do things you normally wouldn't do. Makes you think things that drives you straight into the path to self-destruction._

Oh, that was why: his destructive thoughts and actions. 

“Hey,” Mon-El started to talk again, and as much as Winn loved and missed his voice, he didn't want to deal with this. His questions. Him asking who Winn was. Why he was like this? He … he just couldn't … didn't want to deal with this. 

Not right now. 

Maybe not ever. 

That was a bad thing, he knew, but it hurt so much just by thinking about it.

“I know this must be very strange and confusing to you,” Mon-El continued anyway—voice light and smirky as always — even though Winn didn't want him to poke his nose into this. He wasn't ready. “I remember when Kara found me on my pod,” he said, laughing, “and when I woke up, I strangled her. I’d have kill her if it hadn't been for her quick thinking. I’ve a feeling you’re much nicer than me. I’d love to get to know you. Find out why you’re like this—”

Winn shook his head and burrowed further into himself. “No,” he said quietly, almost whispering to himself. Words were still a struggle to get out. But he couldn't let his boyfri — right, he wasn’t, not in this alternative reality — continued his inquiries. “No,” he repeated and felt as small as he sounded.

“Oh, okay. You don't have to.” Mon-El took a seat next to him on the floor. He smiled, too; a warm, friendly smile. “I understand. You know you don’t have to sit here? Have you tried leaving the _DEO_ since this happened?”

Winn laughed; a broken laugh lacking any emotions in it. Had he tried? To get out of this wretched place? Countless of times. Each time was a failure, taking away a piece of him until he was left in shreds.

He didn't answer the question; he didn't need to.

Mon-El looked at him, tried to touch him again, but immediately backed away when he realized he couldn't touch Winn without going right through him. “You don’t have to tell me, of course,” he reassured Winn in a gentle and soft voice. “But I want to know more about you. I’ve been dreaming of you. Little things. I saw you behind one of those things.” He pointed to the computers. “And you were holding the smaller and lighter version of those. And smiling. _Such a beautiful smile._ ”

Winn didn't uncurled himself from his little ball.

“This must be strange.” He laughed softly. “To be noticed by me. Someone who _has_ no idea _who_ you are, but I feel that, you, Winn, are pretty important to me. I spent so many restless nights dreaming of you. Your beautiful voice. Your pretty smiles. Your too-smart-for-me-to-understand words. The feel of your body against mine.” 

That got Winn’s attention; he looked up and Mon-El captured his gaze in one swift glance. 

Mon-El called him Winn? That must mean something; he wasn't forgotten completely, not that _that_  did anything for him.

 “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we were something from wherever you are from. I _don’t_ normally dream of random strangers I fucked or anything like that. So, you must be pretty special to me,” he ended, reaching out to comfort Winn when he saw how ill and pale he became, but then remembered he couldn't do anything. “I’m _sorry_ if I’m supposed to ease you into this. And I’m _sorry_ that I didn’t try to look for you sooner. I’ve been seeing you for months and I did nothing to help you. My friend — _the super hot babe_ … sure you were the one who told me that … she told me I was losing my mind.”

Winn didn't want to hear more. He just wanted to cry until he felt his heart closing in on itself. He knew that Mon-El was trying to make him feel better, but how was he supposed to feel better when there had been someone out there who noticed him before? Before he became this person. Someone who didn't _really_ try to help him … no, no, no, he wasn’t going to blame Mon-El for this.

He just couldn't deal with this. It was _too_ soon, _too_ sudden, _too_ real.

Mon-El sighed. “I take it you aren’t ready to talk to me.” He looked at Winn and smiled. “I’ll be here _whenever, wherever_ you need me. I might even hang out at the DEO all day long and all night, too —pull an all-nighter, is that it? Anything you need, I’ll be here. I won’t leave your side. I’ll bring you back — I’ll find a way to bring you back into existence.”

Winn laughed. This was surreal. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how strange his life was. All those months, all he longed for was to be noticed by Mon-El, and now that he was, he just wished he were invisible again. _What was wrong with him?_

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

_Drowning_.

He was drowning and there was nothing he could do about it. His arms were useless. His legs were worthless. And his _friends_ were enjoying their fun fest at the beach, not that he could blame them; he was _nothing_.

He let the ocean take him. Felt the rocks digging into his skin as he sunk to the dark, ugliest part of the ocean. His eyes closed on him and he fell into a deep slumber where he could never be disturbed.

Or so he thought. He really wanted to believe that, but nice things no longer came to him.

A voice called to him — _so loud, so demanding_ , _so pretty_ — forcing him to wake up.

“Nightmare?”

Winn looked up and saw the concern swirling around in those beautiful gray eyes of Mon-El’s. He had forgotten how beautiful his eyes were — how he used to come undone when staring into them. He remembered how lost he’d get in them, but now, that did nothing.

“No,” he replied quietly, “ it … it wasn’t a nig …night …. nightmar …. nightmare.”

“Oh, _are_ nightmares,” Mon-El asked; his face blank as he searched for the words, “something else here? On Daxomite, we don’t call _bad_ dreams nightmares. We _didn’t_ really have bad dreams. We only _knew_ how to have a good time.” He chuckled. “Kara said _bad dreams_ are called nightmares here — is she wrong?”

Winn shook his head. _She wasn’t wrong_ , he wanted to say, _but I didn’t have a nightmare. I wanted to drown._

Mon-El looked at him as if he were someone who needed fixing. Maybe he was.

“Winn.” 

He took a seat next to him on the floor _so_ that they were sitting side by side, as if they represented two different things. _Visibility_ and _Invisibility._ Or was it _freedom_ and _entrapment?_

“Are you not okay? I _don’t_ want you to go through whatever you are going through alone, that is if you’re willing to let me in. I — we _meant_ something to each other before all of this happened. I want to bring you back, but are you willing to come back?”

He sounded so _pained_ , so _destroyed_ , as if asking these questions were crushing this hope to help Winn, which he seemed to hold high and mighty.

Winn’s heart twitched painfully in him. “No.” He was never going to be okay. He smiled brokenly and reassured Mon-El, “But it _isn’t_ your fault. It is nobody’s fault. I’m _never_ to be _okay_ again, not for a _very_ long time.” He chuckled until his throat started to burn from the raw pain boiling up in him. 

Mon-El’s face lost that smirky, cheerfulness quality that he once fell hard for. “I’m sorry that you had to go through this. This must be _because_ of you. Mating with me _must_ have caused this. I _had_ done many irresponsible things that destroyed many lives on Daxomite,” he swallowed, as his voice broke down, “here and other planets. I’ve made so many enemies and they must have taken it out on you. To hurt me.”

Winn’s lungs collapsed inside of him until they became two deflated sacs of nothingness. He wanted to comfort Mon-El so badly, but how could he when all of him wasn’t there? Mon-El had nothing to do with this, that Winn knew for a fact.

“It _isn’t_ your fault, Mon.” The words slipped off his mouth naturally and without much struggle. “It _isn’t_ anyone’s fault. This _just_ happened, dude, and I’ve … _we’ve_ to deal with it.”

“Together.” Mon-El smiled; a smile so fractured, so broken, so false. “We’ll fix this. You’ll be _remembered_ again.”

“Yeah.” He wanted to believe that so badly, but he couldn’t, wouldn't let himself be led by blind optimistic because blind optimistic was a _killer_.

“I promise you—” He smiled again. “I will fix this. I _won’t_ stop until you’re back in my life. Back to being the man I see in my dreams.”

He was never going to be that guy again.

Winn just nodded because what was he going to tell Mon-El? He was never going to be able to do that. Or that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be real again?

No, that’d crush him, and Winn didn't want to do that.

All he wanted was to be in that ocean. _Wasn’t that fucked up?_

He’d be _so_ much better at the bottom of the ocean, _so_ much freer.


	7. Chapter 7

Why hadn’t things gotten better?

It should had by now, but it hadn’t. He desperately wanted to get away from _here_ , from _Mon-El_ , from everything _else_ that wasn’t already fucked up in his life. But he couldn’t. 

He was such a coward. 

He couldn’t wake up and face reality. 

What was wrong with him?

“Winn?” Mon-El let his hand linger in the air. “This _isn’t_ your fault. There is nothing wrong with feeling like this is all, um, how do you say it?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Useless? Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

_No_ , Winn wanted to shut, _there is something wrong with feeling useless._ Instead, he said a simple, “Yeah,” and added all of the cheerfulness and upbeat-y emotions he remembered having. 

“It’s okay to lose hope,” Mon-El reassured him. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

_Nothing wrong?_

Sure, losing hope wasn’t always that bad, but if Mon-El knew how badly Winn had fallen into ‘whatever’ this was, he would never say that. He had fallen at the bottom of the pile, buried deep beneath everything that once were good. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to be found again.

“I wish I can say I understood everything that you’re going through.” Mon-El smiled at him. “But the truth is I don’t. I’ll never know what you went through. I wish I can bring you back, but I can’t, not without m—our friends’ help.”

_I wish you would stop trying and leave me here._

“Winn,” Mon-El called to him in a sharp yet soft voice, “I wish you can tell me what’s on your mind. I get it, you’re not the same man from my dreams, but I can’t help you if you wouldn’t let me in.”

What was he to say? _Leave me alone because I don’t want your help?_ No, he couldn’t say that, because then, he would have to talk about his feelings and he couldn’t do that.

“I can see that you don’t want me here. I can’t say I understand your reasonings, but I will never leave you alone not until you’re back to existing.” He struggled to keep a ‘happy’ face. 

Winn saw the lines threatening to break through, crushing the level of calmness he had put on. “If you don’t want me then after you recovered from this, surrounded by your friends, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Mon-El,” he began quietly, as his nerves shook with a chilling realization. He was affecting Mon-El by wanting to waste away, but at the same time, he couldn’t find it in him to care as much as he should.

God, he was shattered in pieces, like the shards of a broken glass. And he didn’t know if he wanted to put all the broken pieces of him back together.

“It _is_ okay, Winn.” Mon-El shot him a quick smile. “I only remembered _us_ from the dreams I have. It’s not as I’d be missing anything. I’d like if I could get to know you. But it’s not really important about what I want, your recovery is more important than anything else.”

His chest exploded with pain. He struggled to breathe. What was he doing? How can he be so fucking selfish?

“And Winn.” Mon-El dragged him out of his thoughts. “I wish you wouldn’t think that _you_ are cruel to me by denying me of any of these things. Or if you don’t want my help. Or anything like that.”

“What?”

Mon-El smiled at him.“I wish I could offer you the comfort you desperately needed, but I can’t physically do that.”

_You need to be comforted more than I need to be_ , Winn wanted to say, because he did. He had been spending all of this time with Winn. Getting all of these looks from the people in the DEO, including Kara, Alex, and J’onn — surely, that can’t be good.

“I can’t offer you a lot right now,” Mon-El said, as he brought his hand until it phased through Winn’s. He let it linger there again. “But what I can offer you, you will get it until I can do better.”

“Mon-El—”

_Why?_ _Why are you doing this to yourself? For me? Please don’t._

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. You should worry about yourself because you’re the one who is suffering.”

_No, you’re the one suffering. I’ve passed through the steps of refusal and grief to acceptance. You haven’t._

Winn wanted to hug him because right now, he was the one that needed the comforting. He wanted to bring Winn back even if it meant losing his mind. That blind optimistic _might_ ruin him, but it won’t, if Winn actually tried to help him.

He could do that. 

It will hurt him more than anything, but he will not let Mon-El get hurt because of him. He just won’t let that happen. Mon-El meant too much to him.

“I … I’m … I’m so … I’m sorr … I’m sorry,” he let the words fall off his lips, as unnaturally as they did. “I … I’ll t … t … _try … for …_ I’ll try for you.”

“No, you don’t have to do anything for me.”

Yes, he had to. He had to be real again and he can’t do that for himself, but he could maybe for Mon-El.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Spending my first year at college studying Psych doesn't do justice for this fic. Probably why I switched my major second year.


	8. Chapter 8

It was so much easier to ‘pretend’ to be alright when nothing was right in his life than to actually admit that he was anything but alright. 

Probably was never going to be back again, but he had to try. He owed Mon-El that at the very least.

He ignored the gaping black hole in his chest and smiled like all was right with the world. He ignored the tear he felt in his heart every time he put on a fake smile. He ignored that little voice in his head that warned him against doing _exactly_ this. Because he had to be real _again_ and this was the price he had to pay.

He didn’t curl up on himself when he felt a panic attack coming. He couldn’t. He had an act to put on. He _had_ to be ‘recovering.’ 

This _was_ the road to recovery.

Sooner or later, he had to face his problems, confine in Mon-El how _fucked up_ in the head he was, but right all, all he coulddo now was ignore this deep, agonizing pain in him. He wasn’t ready yet.

Mon-El would understand that, wouldn’t he?

He looked over at Mon-El who gave him a _tired_ smile. He was sitting next to Winn, like he had aways done ever since he discovered Winn. _He was always there._

“I _don’t_ want you to feel like you’ve to pretend,” Mon-El admitted to him in a tired voice. “I believe you’re doing that.”

Winn stared at him blankly. _I have to_ , he wanted to say desperately, _because I can’t deal with any of this._ But he wasn’t ready to admit that. Instead he said, “I’m … I’m … I’m … I’m _sorry,_ ” and it was spoken in a quiet and broken voice.

“No, no, don’t be.” Mon-El smiled at him. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I’m _the one_ who made you feel like you needed to put an act … you _shouldn’t._ You should have never felt that way. I’m sorry for that.”

Winn shook his head. Mon-El _wasn’t_ wrong, but he was hurting, and Winn wanted to take all of that pain away, and if that meant, he had to face his inner struggles, he would gladly face them. Mon-El meant the world to him, always had, always will; he must know that.

“No, I’m _really_ sorry,” he said brokenly, “because I _couldn’t_ see you like that anymore. Like a corpse. _Especially_ since _it’s_ all _my_ fault,” he added and his breath caught in his throat at the end.

Winn hated that he was partly responsible for this breakdown.

“I … I … No,” Winn said and placed a hand on Mon-El’s shoulder absentmindedly. For a moment, as brief as it was, his hand hadn’t phased through. His heart leapt in his chest. “Did … did you … fee … _did_ you _see_ that?”

Mon-El stared at him, oh, so confused and shocked as him. “Yeah,” he replied back, as he tried to add some emotion back to his voice. “You didn’t … _didn’t_ phased through me?” He scratched the back of his neck. 

“No.”

_I didn’t._

Why now? Why not months before? 

He knew he should be happy, and some part of him were, but he was mostly disappointed. If there was a chance of him _being real_ again, why hadn’t it shown itself earlier? In all those long, dreadful, painful months? What was so special about this moment?

Nothing, absolutely nothing. 

The smile from Mon-El’s face fell when he noticed the blank expression from Winn’s face. “You’re not pleased?” He adverted his eyes away from Winn’s when his watch went off. “Don’t you _want_ to … _oh_ , that’s to be expected.”

“No,” he corrected Mon-El, “I’m … I’m … _I_ can’t be happy. I’m sorry. I want to be, but some parts of me can’t be, dude.” The words rolled off flawlessly off his tongue.

Huh. That was weird. He felt as if his old self was making itself known after all this time. As if he could ever be that guy again.

“I understand.” Mon-El placed a hand warily on Winn’s shoulder and it stayed there for a while before his hand phased through. “Huh—”

“Mon-El!”

_Kara. That’s Kara_ , his brain supplied to him. Mon-El smiled at him before he turned to face Kara.

Kara looked over in his direction, and for one strange second, he felt like she saw him, but that was crazy.

“This is why you missed debriefing?” She pointed a finger accusingly at Winn. “Who’s your friend, Mon-El?”

“You see him?” he asked incredulously. “You see him? You really see him? Oh, Kara, this is great!” He lifted her up in the air. “This is Winn. The guy in my dreams. The one I’ve been telling you about all this time.”

“Your friend?” She bit her upper lip. “He’s really real? Are you sure that’s right? Because—”

“Yes! It’s him. It’s Winn! I’m not lying.”

“Okay.” She smiled at him. “I believe you. Now, put me down!” she demanded. “Or I’m gonna knock you out cold.”

Winn never felt smaller in his life than he he did right now. He wanted to crawl back in his perfect little corner before anyone noticed him. He wasn’t ready to deal with this. It was too soon, too sudden.

He _was_ willing to take gradual steps to existing again, to telling Mon-El about his problems. 

But not this.

He _hadn't_ planed this far off. This wasn’t _even_ in his plans.

How was he supposed to deal with all of this now? 

He was _so_ fucked up, _so badly_ , that he wanted to escape when he was given the chance to be real again. To have his friends again (if they ever remember him, like Mon-El did). But he didn’t want any of that because he couldn’t handle any of this.

Why couldn’t he _just_ disappear?

Kara saw him and placed a hand on his shoulder in a friendly gesture. “Hi,” she said brightly and cheerfully. Her eyes widened when she noticed her hand went through him. “Oh?”

“Hi,” he said, as his world collapsed on itself.

 


	9. Chapter 9

He didn’t like this. Oh, he hated how Kara pitted him, how she looked at him as if he were a kicked puppy who can’t get up again. He couldn't blame her, he knew that, but it made him want to crawl back in his hole when he just had crawled out.

He wanted to hold his head and scream until his throat was raw from the pain. But he wanted to whisper soft words to Mon-El until he was the charming, dashing man Will fell hopelessly in love with. He also wanted to act all dorky and sweet until Kara believed he was alright.

He _couldn’t_ do all of those things, however, because those things weren’t included in the road to recovery.

The road to recovery meant he had to be honest to himself and it wasn’t easy to do that. No, it wasn’t. It wasn't supposed to be. He wanted it to be.

“Hi? You okay?” Kara sat down next to him and he just wanted to crouch down until he was invisible again. This was _not_ how he was supposed to feel like. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. You know that, don’t you?”

He nodded because he was too uncomfortable to speak around her. She was his best friend and he couldn’t talk to her. How messed up was this? She was supposed to be the one person he could confine in, but if he couldn’t confine in Mon-El, the guy he opened up his heart fully to, then he should had expected this.

She smiled at him awkwardly and her lips twitched nervously. “Uh-huh. You don’t want to talk to me. You want to talk to Mon-El. Right,” she said, looking directly at him, as if she was scanning his face for some answers. “He’ll be here soon enough.”

He stared right back at her and it hurt so much to see how ‘weird’ she was in his company. He really shouldn't feel this way because he was the same way around her. Then he remembered she didn't knew who he was.

“You don’t have to,” he slowly said, so slow, that it almost sounded like he was a record on reverse. “I mean, go, if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

He adverted his gaze to his lap, as the feeling of shame and disappointed overtook him. Kara Danvers was the sweetest, most nicest, beautiful woman in the world. He shouldn’t had ignored her when she was just trying to make him feel comfortable, to understand how this all was affecting him.

Hey, hey!” She reached out to touch him but stopped herself in due’s time. “You don’t have to ever apologize to anyone. Not me, not Mon-El. We’re here for you. We’re the ones who deserve your apology since we had abandoned you for so long. Not you, Winn! Never you, Winn! You’ve nothing to ever be sorry about.”

He looked up to her and tried to smile. Her words did nothing to him; they were just that, words, and nothing else to him. He knew that he should had felt something, anything, but he went through this already with Mon-El, so he was okay with this kind of thing by now.

“Thank you,” he said quietly through the buzzing thoughts in his brain. “I’m glad you’re here, Kara. I’ve missed you.”

“No,” she replied softly, “you don’t want me here, but that’s okay.”

_No, it really isn’t._

Kara then raised an eyebrow. “You knew me?” She took a minute to get her head wrapped around that new information. 

Winn had forgotten  _again_  that she hadn’t known that they were once friends before he was placed in this alternate universe of sorts.

“Mon-El didn’t tell me that. I had no idea you actually knew me before this—” She gestured to him and slapped herself on the head when she realized what she had done. She looked absolutely wrecked. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay,” he reassured her in a quiet voice. “It’s okay.”

She looked at him again, and, oh, she hugged herself when she realized she couldn’t hug him. He didn’t need a hug.

“I—”

“Kara?”

Kara turned her head around swiftly. Winn didn't move. He knew it was Mon-El.

“I … I,” she started to say, “Can we talk in private?” she whispered but he had heard every single word she said. Heard how she said them cautiously, as she was afraid if he heard them, he’d be broken. 

He wouldn’t be.

“Yeah sure, but whatever you want to say, Kara,” he began and looked at Winn for some signs. Winn didn’t know what he was looking for. “I think we should include Winn in our conversation. And not to 'talk around' him.”

Kara thought it over and nodded. “Of course. You’re absolutely right.” She smiled sweetly at Winn. “But it’s up to you, Winn, if you want to come with us.”

He nodded. This was the road to recovery, wasn’t it? He had to take the first step and to be included in a conversation where his friends may not treat him as if he was some broken thing was a good thing. _Right?_

He wasn’t ready but who said recovery came when you wanted it?

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Winn wanted to hide so badly.

Maybe he should have listened to himself. He wasn’t ready for this. Any of this. But every time, he looked at Mon-El’s kind face, he remembered why he was doing this. It wasn’t for him. It was Mon-El. That was the only thing that mattered.

“Winn,” Kara edged him in softly, never taking her kind, beautiful eyes off him, “I know this is tough. Being around me, Mon El, and I can’t promise it’ll get better, or easier. Because I’m not you. Only you can decide that.”

Mon-El sighed. “Kara,” he began, as he reached for Winn’s hands under the table, but Winn flinched and pulled away. “That _isn’t_ going to work. Winn doesn’t need to be coddled. I think that’s the word.”

“Yeah, you’re absolutely correct. We need to treat like like we would treat any of our friends,” she finished off nervously, trying so hard not to look at Winn.

“Now, that we have that settled. What was it you wanted to talk about?”

She looked between him and Winn and sighed. “How we are goin’ to fix his problem. There has gotta be a cure. We’ve to tell Alex, J’onn, and—”

Mon-El looked at her sharply. “Yeah, that’s the plan, but we can’t drop it like that. I mean I’ve been telling you guys for months and nothing.” He paled significantly and his hands started to tremble. “If you had listened to me …. _if_ I’ve been more _adamant_ in my demands, he wouldn’t have to go through all of this for _months._ Months, Kara! He has been living like this for months! This is all my fault!”

Winn’s heart shattered, like shards of glass, in his unfeeling chest. 

“Hey, hey.” Kara reached for Mon-El’s hands and rubbed both of them soothingly. “It isn’t your fault that we’ve been caught up with Cadmus that it hasn’t occurred to us that your dreams could have been real. Okay?”

He shook his head. “But it is. I’m the one who had forgotten all about it.” He took small breaths; his voice faltering. “Kara, I did things! Really bad things.”

“You didn’t know.” She leaned in closer and held his trembling body in his arms. “It isn’t your fault. Never blame yourself for any this. He wouldn’t want this.”

Winn felt something break in him. 

He should be the one comforting Mon-El, not Kara. 

But he wasn’t comfortable enough to actually touch anyone, even this kind, handsome, hurting Daxomite who had always been there for him. He may not have known this before, but he was always there in the beginning when this all happened.

Even if he had _ignored,_ hadn’t paid attention to Winn, and even fucked around, with knowing about all of this. But _how_ was he to know all of this was actually real and connected to him?

He didn’t.

“Winn,” he said, as his body went completely limpin Kara’s arms. “He saw me. Doing _things._ Having _fun_ when I should have been helping him.”

“It isn’t—”

“No, it is my fault,” he cut her off, as small sobs started to take him over. “I _had_ sex here!” He shook. “He saw it! Oh, and here I am, trying to bring him back to … when I’m the _one_ who…” His voice broke down at the end.

Kara only hugged him tighter. “Not your fault. You didn't know.”

“He d — _doesn’t … even w_ ant to be back. He's _doing_ it for me!”

“Now, that’s not true,” she reassured him, rubbing small circles on his back. 

“It is!” He resurfaced from Kara’s and glanced at Winn through red-rimmed eyes. “He might not have told me, but I know.”

Winn stumbled back till his back hit the wall. He let his body fall gracefully to the floor. 

Why was he always screwing up? He _was_ responsible for this because he was too scared to face his problems. Only if he had been strong enough, Mon-El would never see through his lies, because there wouldn’t be any.

Only if he could fake it better. Only if … but he hadn’t done any of that. Mon-El should had never discovered him.

He was an awful person. How could he had been this _stupid_ , this _reckless,_ this _thoughtless?_

He hit his back against the wall again and again and again. He was stupid. An absolutely moron. He never thought about the consequences of his _lies_. Of course, he did not! He didn't think. If he had, he would realize that _lying_ did absolutely nothing, but hurt, and destroy people. Especially ones like his.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! You are stupid! Maybe you deserve this. Stupid!_ He hit his back against the wall againand it started to hurt. Real bad. He deserved it. He was responsible for Mon-El’s breakdown. He needed to suffer.

His vision began to swim until he saw blurry images of everything. Oh, would you look at that, he can actually experience pain, now? Hah. What great timing!

He felt arms cradling him. 

Why were they paying attention to him? He didn’t deserve their kindness. He didn't deserve any of this.

“Kara!” He heard panicking and the rustling of shoes across the floor. “W — I’m _so_ stupid!”

“No, we’re both stupid.” He heard bodies gradually falling to the floor behind him. “How could we have ignored him! He was right there!”

“I don’t know. We are _so_ stupid.”

“Mon-El, don’t,” she warned him. “Can we even get him help? He’s hurt pretty badly.”

Winn heard a punch to the wall. “No, we _CAN’T_!” Another punch to the wall. “We _ARE_ the only _ONES_ who can _SEE him!”_

“Oh, my god!” He heard loud footsteps. Back and forth. “Oh, my god! Maybe he can be seen. We need to get someone. I will go get Alex, if she isn’t too busy making out with Maggie.”

“That—”

“You stay with him.”

“Okay.”

He collapsed next to him, or so Winn thought, as he stared at the blurry figure next to him. So, this was all it ended for him. He was okay with this, but he only regretted that he couldn’t help Mon-El through this cluster fuck of a mess.

His eyes got awfully tired for the first time in months, and when it closed, he let it.

“What?”

“Yeah, he’s real.”

He felt hands shaking him. “Stay with me! Winn, please stay with me!”

_I wish I could_ , he though as he drifted off, _but I’m unworthy to be around you._

“Winn, please! I can’t lose you! I promise to bring you back! Please,” Mon-El begged, as his voice shook with raw pain. “I love you. You’re everything to me.”


	11. Chapter 11

Warm, safe, protected.

Winn _f_ eared what he might find if he opened his eyes. So, he held on as long as he could, but he knew he had to open his eyes and face the music at some point. But after everything that happened, after what happened to Mon-El — _no_ , he couldn’t.

He was bad luck to be around.

No one should be around him. It _wasn’t_ right for anyone, even kind, sweet, hot Mon-El, to waste their time with him. He _cannot_ be cured; he was incurable.

He was _okay_ with that. 

It would hurt. 

The loneliness, invisibility, and darkness would all eat him up alive, and then spit him out just to throw him back in an never ending cycle of torture and pain. But he was okay with that, if that meant Mon-El and his friends would never have to suffer like him.

It _wasn’t_ a small price to pay, but it was one he had to pay.

He forcibly opened his eyes open and his body ached from the pain. He groaned softly and adjusted his eyes to the blinding light. 

When he was no longer half-blind, he took in his surrounding, and started to laugh, ignoring the protest from his abused throat.

Oh, _oh_ , _oh._

Was _this_ a dream? 

Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. He didn't care. What was the use anymore? Life only threw scraps at him.

Winn forced himself up and his body ached so badly that his eyes almost closed on him. He fell back on the bed, too exhausted to do anything else, and let his head fall back gracefully on the soft, feathery pillows.

The bed wasn’t too soft but it was much better than that _floor_ he had only been able to sit on. It _was_ a gift, he supposed, one that he never thought he would get to experience anymore, but he was so grateful for this small comfort.

He knew he had to wake up at some point, but for now, he wasn't going to complain for the small comfort he was given. 

He sighed and closed his eyes. And for this once, maybe this dream won’t end like the others, maybe he won’t wake up and find himself as the odd man out. Just maybe, just for once, things will work out for him.

There was a fat chance of that happening, but he wished things didn't had to be so damn confusing and so fucking difficult for him. Just once. He wished he didn't had to fall to that stage between self-hatred and self-blaming.

But he understood why he felt this way. 

He was a mess, an absolute mess. 

The slight, creaking of the door almost made him open his eyes, but he decided against it. He knew something unpleasant was waiting for him on the other end, and he wasn’t ready to face it. No, he was ready, more than ready, he just didn't want to see what awaited him.

There were some rustlings, a cup dropping, he supposed, and a tearful laughter.

It _wasn’t_ so bad. 

Not yet, anyway.

It will get bad. 

It always did.

So, he prepared himself for the worse, and didn't flinch when warm, soft lips were pressed against his warm, burning forehead. Didn’t tremble when his weak, limp hands were lifted up and pressed against those same very lips. Didn't move an inch when _his_ dream friend moved into the bed with him, not too close to him, but close enough to make him feel uncomfortable.

He tried his best to not panic, to not let his body shake, but it didn't work. He started trembling, small trembles at first, but then soon turned to an uncontrollable wave of loud vibrations. It became so bad that all he heard were the beeping of machines.

Someone tried to shake his shoulders, but that didn't work. Why would it? His _dream_ friend wasn’t real. 

So, after all, it was one of those dreams. He wanted to laugh, but his lips trembled so badly that he felt them turning blue.

“Winn!”

There _was_ that faint calling of his name. Must be his brain telling him to wake up now. Too bad his mind and brain both wanted different things.

“Winn!”

Can’t it not stop? He was sure he will wake up when he was ready to. He didn't need this constant reminder.

“Winn! Winn! Winn!” his dream friend, brain, whatever the hell it was, choked out, voice wrecked and low. “Please, you’ve _gotta_ wake up. I’ll _get_ the doctor. You stay here, alright? Please, if not for my sake, for yours. _Please._ ”

He tried to open his eyes, because he wanted to see his _dream_ friend, and it sounded like Mon-El. Of course, his brain would conjure up Mon-El.

But he couldn’t. His eyes were too heavy and even when he stopped shaking, and the room got so crowed with so many voices, he still couldn't open his eyes. So, he just kept his eyes closed, and laid there, like a stuffed animal.

And soon his eyes closed on him and the voices went away.

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Bright.

It was _too_ bright.

Winn opened his eyes and a small groan escaped his lips. Hot. He was so fucking _hot_ ; it felt as if his body was on fire. He felt as if he would combust on the inside anytime soon. He ached everywhere; it was as if every bone had melted in his body.

He groaned again, blinking slowly, trying to take in his surrounding. _Oh,_ he thought, once he saw the room, _he was in the hospital._ It was not a dream, after all.

He turned his head around slightly, ignoring the protests from his body at the move. And his eyes settled on a _very_ peaceful sleeping Mon-El.

Oh, Mon-El was here, too.

Why’d he put himself through this? He shouldn't be here. Winn had _destroyed_ this kind Daxomite; he should leave and never look back. Winn wasn’t worth any of this.

But he looked so peaceful sleeping, and the way his hair fell over his face, Winn just wanted to reach and brush the hair back. But he couldn’t.

He _will_ never be able to leave Mon-El, if he had done that. He _had_ to leave. Go his own way. It was better this way. He could never be the guy he was before. That Winn _was_ gone. That Winn _was_ so strong — he could overcome anything.

But the Winn he was now, he can’t … _wasn’t_ strong, but he was broken beyond repair.

He forced his aching body up, and started to untangle the wires from his wrists. And that made the machines go haywire. 

They were beeping so loudly that _he_ lifted his arms to cover his ears, and couldn’t suppress the scream on the tip of his tongue. He screamed so loudly because all he wanted to do was scream.

Why did he scream? Why couldn’t he stop screaming?

He closed his eyes and waited for the screaming to stop. It didn’t. And he started to vibrate and the room started to spin, and spin, and spin around him.

_Oh, make it stop! Please make it stop_ , his mind screamed, as he felt wet, salty tears streaming down his face.

Touch. A soft, caring touch. Someone was touching him. _Mon-El?_ No, he was destroying Mon-El, his _Mon_ — why must he be so cruel? 

_Oh, please stop,_ he begged his body, _just until Mon is away from the room._ His body didn't listen to him.

“Winn,” a drowsily, still half-awaken Mon-El said, rubbing Winn’s knuckles with the softest touch, as if he were afraid the man before him would break down more than he had already soon. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault you’re going through any of this. Please _stop_ blaming yourself, okay?”

_No, no, no!_ How can he? When he was — why was he shaking for? Why was Mon _speaking_ to him like that? What was going on? Why was he in _so_ much pain? Why couldn’t he remember? What was going on with him?

He started to scream until he could no longer. He was so _fucking_ lost. Nothing made any sense.

“Winn,” his Mon-El said, and he sounded so broken, so wrecked. Why did he sound like that? His Mon was _never_ unhappy, not really, so why did he sound so _defeated?_

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Mon-El continued, squeezing his shoulder gently when Winn stopped shaking.

What? He flickered an eye open, and the sight before him caused him to back into the wall. _What?_ Why did Mon-El looked so _broken_ , so _old_ , so _tired_? Why were his eyes so sunken and red? Was he crying? Mon-El never cried.

“Winn,” Mon-El started again.“Are you okay?”

Why was his face so _hard?_ Why was he looking at Winn, as if he’d break anytime soon? He wouldn’t. He was stronger than he looked.

“Winn?”

There was that look again. What was going on?

_“Winn?”_

What the hell was going on? Why wouldn't Mon-El stop treating him like this? Why wouldn't he say anything?

It was all _making_ him feel so lost, like he were a lost boy. His brain screamed something, but he couldn't hear it.

What was going on?

He lifted his hands and covered his ears. He didn't know why, but it felt right. Why had it felt right?

_What?_

He started crying. He was so lost, so confused. Why wouldn't Mon-El tell him anything?

“Winn.” There was that _anxious_ tone again. “I should—”

“Mon,” he called out in a raspy voice. “Why do I feel so _lost_?”

And he started crying again.

“Why can’t I stop crying?” he asked between sobs, pulling at his hair roughly. “What happened? Did I get hit by something? Tell me,” he pleaded and he felt so fucking small.

“Winn,” he began, as he cupped his face in his hands. “What do you remember?”

“I — I _can’t_ remember anything.Why _can’t_ I remember anything?”

“But you know who I am?” he asked, eyes soft and conflicted. “Do you remember Kara? Alex? J’onn? Maggie?”

“Yes, but only your faces! I don’t remember anything else.” He wanted to hit something so badly. “Why can’t I remember anything? Mon, why do I remember that we are together, and nothing else?”

“Winn, I don’t know.” He stared at Winn. “I should get your doctor.”

“No, _please_ stay with me. You make me comfortable. Don’t leave me,” he said softly, as if he were afraid Mon-El would leave him. Why would Mon-El leave him?

“Okay,” he said and he scooted over closer to Winn. He brought Winn’s face to his chest and let the smaller man cry into his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've offically opened my tumblr for MonWinn prompts, so feel free to leave me some there, or even here. I think I'd like to write something fluffy (I don't care if it's straight up smut) with them now. I already received two prompts (which will end up being longer works, and it will be written very differently from this meaning I'll do some serious writing) and one is angsty and maybe dark as hell; the other is much nicer. But there aren't fluff, but I kind of said I didn't want to write fluff, but I want to actually write fluff now.
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://my-allisondiamond-world.tumblr.com.)


	13. Chapter 13

To say things got better wasn’t exactly true, but with Mon-El, caring and loving Mon-El by his side, things weren't that bad.

Winn would wake up so damn confused, and once he almost stabbed one of the nurses with a butter knife when she tried to calm him down. He didn't know why he felt this way, but something happened to him. Something had to have happened to him. This wasn’t like him at all.

He screamed and pulled his hair. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he calm the hell down?

“Hey, hey, Winn.” Mon-El wrapped his hands around him. “I’m here.”

Winn looked up at him. “What — what’s wrong with me?” he asked, burying his face into Mon El’s shirt. “Why am I so jumpy? So paranoid? Am I _going_ crazy? Is that it?”

“Hey, hey, you aren’t crazy,” Mon-El reassured him. “Something did happen. I — I’ll tell you later. You relax now, okay?”

He looked up into Mon El’s sad eyes. “Wh — what? Why won’t you tell me what happened? I … trust me I can handle it.”

Mon El gave him a small smile. “I know you can, Winn.” He ran a hand through Winn’s hair. “But this … _this_ has to wait. I promise I’ll tell you later, but right now, can’t we just relax?”

“Yeah, okay.” Winn smiled and snuggled closer to Mon El. “So what did I miss other than my freakout?”

“Winn,” he began sternly.

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it.” He smiled. “It’s okay. I know there _is_ something wrong with me, but I still have you, and the sort of makes things better.”  


“Winn, it’s, ah, how do you say, ‘way more complicated’ than that.” He closed his eyes and buried the images of Winn — the Winn that he had gotten to know over the months, not this one here, not the Winn in his dreams. “But what matters is that you _are_ here, alive and well, with me. I cannot ask more than that.”

Winn licked his lips. “Don’t leave me hanging, Mon. How is it _exactly_ complicated ‘cause man, I lived a pretty rough life, you know that, Mon? So, I don’t think anything can beat my _dad_ out of the equation — he was the frickin’ toymaker, after all.”

“Only if you knew,” he whispered and smiled at Winn’s content face resting on his chest, as if it was meant to be there. 

“Tell _me_ we **_didn’t_** come across any hot ‘evil’ alien while I was out. ‘Cause I remembered this alien: nice blue skin, gorgeous round eyes, with a nice ass. He was hot! I _think_ it was a ‘he’ but I couldn’t be too sure.”

Winn splayed his hands around Mon El’s chest, moving it up and down. “But he or is it she now? I don’t know.” He moved his hands farther down. “As I was saying, he, she, it, whatever, had _nothing_ on you. Definitely not this,” he said, licking his lips, as he palmed Mon El’s cock through his jeans. 

“Tell me _about_ this alien,” he struggled to say against Winn’s increased rubbing, stroking. _This was wrong._ This Winn was performing ‘this’ for his boyfriend, which Mon-El wasn’t. 

“Shut up, Mon.” Winn lowered his mouth to his clothed cock, and kissed it. “Let’s me just do this.”

“What did he exactly say to you?” he asked, suppressing a moan, as the blood rushed to his now hardening cock. 

“Nothing much. Said somethin’ about _putting_ me in my place. In time. Crazy alien, I tell ya.” Winn continued licking him through his clothes, doing wonderful things with his mouth, and he had this dangerous glint in his eyes. “Couldn’t get lost. I _asked_ nicely, too, you know,” he mumbled, face pressed against Mon-El’s clothed hard, throbbing cock.

“Winn, stop that!”

“What?” Winn surfaced up. “C’mon, Mon, I missed you, and you _blew_ me under the table during one of our meetings at the DEO. Giving me a blowjob in the hospital _isn’t_ that big of a deal.”

“Clothes—”

“You’re right.” Winn smiled, moved his face upwards, and started to pull at Mon-El’s jeans with his teeth. “Let me take care of that.”

“No!” Mon-El pushed him off. “Winn, you can’t do this! I’m not _who_ you think I am.”

Winn eyes widened. “Crap, please _tell_ me you aren’t J’onn! ‘Cause that’s — oh my god, did I almost blow J’onn!” he screeched.

“No, no, I’m not J’onn.” He shook his head. “But, Winn — _can’t_ we just cuddle?”

“Why can’t I blow you? Mon, I’ve been doing all these wild things. I need to destress. Sex _is_ a good idea.”

“Winn, you _need_ sleep, and plenty of rest, not sex.”

Winn sighed. “Fine,” he let out, as he placed his body over Mon El’s, all splayed out. “I can deal with this.”

“What are you doing?”

“Resting,” he replied back contently. “This _definitely_ beats a blowjob, or heck, even sex.”

Mon-El smiled, as he watched the strange man before him. _If_ he _was_ this snarky, sweet man before, then the _Winn_ he knew must had been broken to a point, where he may never return from. And the thought _crushed_ his heart because he knew Winn, the real Winn, will return to that place at some point, destroying this Winn before him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
